A happy birthday indeed
by HighlyOveractiveImagination
Summary: Two stories, one for Sherlock's birthday and one for John's. John gets Sherlock a gift and Sherlock reacts in a way John didn't expect. Sherlock forgets John's birthday altogether and is forced to improvise. Slash with some fluff and some hurt on John's side.


**Authors Note: I got tired whilst writing another fan fiction and decided to give in to my desire to write a birthday fic. PLZ REVIEW, but to feel as though you have to. Enjoy!**

Sherlock's

John smiled to himself as he heard the sound of Sherlock walking around in his bedroom. He was always so clumsy when he first woke up. John pulled his newspaper up to cover his face and hide his grin. Sherlock finally came into the sitting room looking as though he had just been dragged on his side by a galloping horse. His dark curls sticking almost straight up on the left and his blue robe wrapped messily around him. Underneath he was wearing green plaid pajama bottoms and a simple grey T-shirt. Sherlock yawned dramatically.

"Good morning Sherlock." John said amiably. He looked at the clock, it read 12:23.

"Or rather afternoon." John said trying his best to conceal a giggle.

"Oh, and happy birthday." John said putting down the newspaper as to see Sherlock's reaction. It was even better than he'd imagined. Sherlock froze next to the counter where he'd been absentmindedly checking his experiments. He turned slowly to face John.

"How-"

"I asked Mycroft." Sherlock hummed and nodded at the floor.

"I got you a present." John said holding up the very nicely wrapped box.

"Oh god, John you know I detest sentimentality. Had I known that you had asked my brother about my birthday I would have expressly told you not to get me anything." John frowned slightly at that.

"Well Sherlock why don't you just-" John started to say.

"No John I am not opening your ridiculous present, I have no doubt that it is some impractical gesture of sentiment that is completely useless." With that Sherlock grabbed the present and threw it unceremoniously into the trash can. John just gaped, he had expected Sherlock to be reluctant about the gift but not to this extent. _He's probably just grumpy from the lack of cases _John told himself, but that didn't stop his stomach from twisting into a painful knot. John tried to shake it off but could feel his throat tighten and knew he had to get out of there, get out and away from Sherlock.

"Right then I'll, um, be sure not to mention it ever again in that case." John couldn't stop his voice from cracking as he spoke. He didn't know why he was reacting this way, it was just a gift, and Sherlock was always like this. Maybe it was because John had spent so much time trying to find the perfect gift. Maybe it was because John had actually put together the gift himself. John got up a little too quickly and Sherlock's distasteful expression turned to one of surprise and confusion. John opened his mouth to speak again, but no words would come. He just stood there for a moment before marching out of the flat, his fists clenched; he didn't even stop to grab his coat. John still didn't know why he was taking this so hard, Sherlock was just a friend, his reaction shouldn't matter that much. He was just a friend… wasn't he?

Sherlock stared out of the window as his friend walked away wiping his face repeatedly for some reason. Sherlock shouldn't care, but he felt awful. He never felt that way, he never felt _guilty _but he did now. He tried to push the emotion away but it kept on coming back no matter how hard he tried. Also the image of John's face when Sherlock had thrown the present away kept flashing in front of his eyes and that expression of hurt only made him feel worse. Sherlock wound up with his arms in the garbage pulling the semi-heavy wrapped package out from among the leftovers of last night's take-out. Sherlock hadn't wanted to eat and John had lost his appetite after Sherlock had spilled intestines all over the kitchen floor. Sherlock wiped the spaghetti off of the silvery wrapping paper. John had obviously taken a lot of care to wrap it, the corners were perfect and there wasn't a single rough patch anywhere on the package. Sherlock sat down on the couch with the package on his lap, it wasn't so bad, he could've been decent and opened it, and it wouldn't have been that hard. But instead he had chosen to act rashly and throw out the gift John had been kind enough to get for him. Sherlock sighed, half because he didn't know why he had behaved the way he had and also because he didn't understand why he suddenly cared. He treated everyone that way? Why was this different? Sherlock gave up and tore the wrapping paper off the box and a card fluttered to the floor, Sherlock opened it and it read:

_Dear Sherlock,_

_I know you hate sentiment but I wanted to get you something anyway because even if you don't have something to celebrate on your birthday, I do. It is the anniversary of your birth and if you hadn't been born we wouldn't have met and my life would not be the same. I owe a lot to you and I am glad you were born because in all honesty… I'd be lost without my consulting detective._

_From, sincerely, love (Whatever) John._

_P.S. Don't throw anything at me for being overly sensitive, I can't help it._

Sherlock's heart dropped like a stone. John had written him this, this wonderful letter; and Sherlock had chucked it in the garbage. The gift didn't matter; it was the thought that John was glad that Sherlock _existed _that really mattered. Sherlock ran his hand over the paper, his fingers lingering at the word 'love'. He wanted to hit himself in the head with a brick for being so stupid. Sherlock decided to wait for John to come home to open the rest of the gift so Sherlock could have some way to express his apology, because he knew that he would just mess up trying to use words.

It was much, much later when John came home; his footsteps were heavy as he climbed the stairs, weighed down by his foul mood. Sherlock sat in the living room, regularly dressed and hair combed. The gift John had gotten sat on his lap, still encased in the cardboard box. John opened the door and looked incredibly surprised to see Sherlock on the couch with his gift in his lap.

"Sherlock what are you doing?"

"I am attempting to apologize for my unacceptable behavior earlier, it was very… tactless of me to treat your gift in the way I did." Sherlock tried to express his guilt through his eyes but John never looked up to meet them, his slightly red rimmed hazel eyes stayed trained on the floor.

"That's alright Sherlock; I shouldn't have set my expectations so high." That stung Sherlock and he had absolutely no idea why. Yet all Sherlock could do was nod, he cursed his basted mouth for not cooperating with his head or his heart. John began to walk towards his bedroom and Sherlock finally managed to blurt out

"I read your letter." John stopped and turned, finally looking at Sherlock's face, as soon as their eyes met John saw what Sherlock had been trying to say. His eyes told John just how bad Sherlock felt even though Sherlock's mouth couldn't.

"Oh, and what'd you think?" Sherlock was lost for words, he hated that, he wanted to sock himself in the jaw. Maybe then it would loosen up and he could speak.

"Thank-you." Sherlock said gently, hoping John would catch on to the fact that Sherlock meant thank-you for much more than just the letter. John smiled the tension on his face easing and the sadness in his yes dissipating.

"I waited to open the actual gift, so you could see." John nodded in thanks and Sherlock finally opened the medium sized cardboard box. In it was a black roll out case containing, several smaller versions of the things used for Sherlock's experiments. Cotton swabs, small chemical containers, and even a small magnifying glass.

"It's a field experiment testing kit, so you can check for poisons and such while at a crime scene rather than having to rush back and forth between here and Bart's." Sherlock smiled, he loved it, he absolutely loved it.

"I thought it would be practical, you know." John shrugged.

"I love it, I absolutely love it." For once Sherlock's words matched his thoughts exactly. John blushed and smiled widely.

"Well happy birthday Sherlock." John said standing and walking to the kitchen. He returned with two plates, each with a slice of cake. Sherlock's had a candle sticking out of the top. Sherlock rolled his eyes and began to eat, John chuckled and sat down. Sherlock's heart and head finally went back to their normal status and Sherlock gazed at John. 'Love John' maybe birthdays weren't so bad after all.

John's

Sherlock was missing something, something huge, something so enormously important that the world would be in danger if he didn't figure what it was. He paced up and down the cluttered living room, it had something to do with John, that much he knew. He had about two hours before John came home from the surgery and was becoming desperate. John hadn't acted out of the ordinary that morning; he had made tea, eaten an egg for breakfast and left for work in his usual manner. Nothing out of the ordinary. Sherlock had checked John's Facebook page as well as his blog. Nothing. He checked all of John's recent mail. Nothing. He checked John's receipts, missed calls, emails, and even his laundry. Still nothing. An hour before John came home. Sherlock grunted in frustration and pulled his phone out of his pocket; he scrolled to Lestrade's phone number in his contacts and dialed it.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade." Came Lestrade's gravelly voice.

"Lestrade! It's Sherlock, there something going on with John and I can't figure out what it is. Do you know?" Sherlock practically shouted into the phone.

"What? No I don't know what's going on with John Why don't you ask _him?" _Sherlock hung up and went to Molly's contact. She was a woman and women can sometimes notice things men can't. Although Sherlock was no ordinary man, perhaps Molly could shed some light on the whole situation.

"Hello?" Molly answered.

"Molly! It's Sherlock, something important is happening with John and I must find out what it is. Do you know?" Sherlock definitely shouted that time.

"Oh, Sherlock, hi!" She answered sounding flustered.

"Um, who's John?" Sherlock hung up in frustration, using all his willpower not to throw is phone across the room. He took a deep breath and scrolled down to the only contact he had left to call. He knew he was going to regret this.

"Hello?" Mycroft answered snobbishly. Sherlock didn't know how he managed it but everything about Mycroft was snobbish even that snobbish umbrella he always carried.

"Mycroft, it's Sherlock. Something is happening today having to do with John; I need you to tell me what that is." Sherlock spoke through his teeth; he couldn't believe he was going to his _brother _for help.

"Oh my Sherlock, stumped are we? I know exactly what you're talking about, but I'm going to let you figure it out on your own. Good luck." Mycroft hung up on him, chuckling snobbishly. God Mycroft was so… Snobbish!

Sherlock spent the next half hour thinking at a thousand miles per hour, trying to figure it out.

"I'm home!" John announced cheerfully from the stairwell. He climbed up the stairs and was immediately greeted by. Sherlock's piercing stare. John just awkwardly made his way to the kitchen trying to ignore Sherlock x-raying him with his eyes as he made tea. Sherlock sat across from him and continued to stare for a good three minutes before finally sighing in resignation.

"I give up, I can't figure it out!" Sherlock said, pounding his fists into the armrests of the chair.

"Can't figure out what?" John said, still looking baffled by Sherlock's outburst.

"Can't figure out you John! There is something important happening today and it has to do with you; but I can't seem to figure out what it is!" Sherlock let his head fall and hit the back of the chair. John chuckled softly and that chuckle slowly grew into roaring laughter. Sherlock lifted his head to see John clutching his sides, tears rolling down his face.

"John, I demand you tell me what you know this instant!" Sherlock rose to his feet, staring at John who was slowly regaining control.

"Sherlock, it's my birthday today." John sputtered out between short breathy laughs. Sherlock's brain froze and he felt a familiar guilt in the pit of his stomach. How had he forgotten John's birthday? John had remembered his even though he hadn't told him and now he had completely forgotten John's. John must've seen Sherlock's guilty expression because he stopped laughing and stood up.

"Sherlock don't worry about it, I never celebrate my birthday. Honestly the fact you remembered anything at all is quite flattering." That wasn't good enough for Sherlock, John deserved more than that. His mind was racing for something he could get for John. No, it was too late for that, he thought about something he could do for John. Buy milk for a month? They always seemed to be out of milk.

"Sherlock, stop thinking so much you're going to hurt yourself." John's voice interrupted Sherlock's thought and Sherlock looked at him. He was so wonderful and understanding, he put up with everything that Sherlock did; the body parts, the boredom, the tactless comments all of it. John deserved so much more than Sherlock could ever give him. So why was Sherlock the one to suddenly feel a sensation of longing in his chest area, rather near his heart.

"Sherlock really it's ok, I don't care about my birthday." John moved to touch Sherlock.

"No John, it is not ok. You are amazing, you put up with me and I give you nothing in return, yet you still feel obliged to give me even more. I don't deserve that, I don't deserve you." Sherlock inched closer to John as he spoke. John look completely taken aback by Sherlock's statement, and Sherlock wasn't even done yet.

"I am infinitely grateful that you were born. Because without you I'd be the same as I was before and have no one. You are everything to me John and I can't even remember your birthday." Sherlock was now standing very close to John; their faces were inches were inches apart. Sherlock leaned forward even more and could feel John's breath on his face. He reached forward and took John's hand. He hadn't expected to feel John's pulse hammering in his wrist. It was highly elevated; Sherlock looked into John's eyes and saw that the pupils were dilated. John's breath sped up and he blushed ever so slightly. Sherlock could see his own silvery eyes reflected in John's hazel ones. His pupils were also dilated, he could feel his heart hammering in his chest and his breathing quicken. He moved so quickly John didn't even have time to look surprised. Sherlock was kissing John, John's lips stayed still for a moment before moving with Sherlock's. Sherlock moaned and took charge of the kiss. He bit gently at John's lip and pushed his tongue into his mouth. John reciprocated Sherlock's moan and his hands wrapped around the taller man, one on his back, the other in Sherlock's dark curls, he pulled gently and Sherlock responded by shoving John into the wall behind him. John's free hand went underneath Sherlock's shirt and was met by smooth skin. John needed air though and broke the kiss to begin kissing down Sherlock's neck. He bit Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock's self-control went out of the window. He grabbed John's hands and pinned them above his head. Sherlock bit and kissed John on every inch of his exposed skin and all John could do was stand there reveling in the sensations. Sherlock pulled back and looked into John's eyes with a seductive smile.

"Happy Birthday John." John smiled widely and brought his lips up to meet Sherlock's in a brief kiss.

"Indeed it is." John said, and they disappeared into the bedroom, still in each other's arms.


End file.
